


Tears dry slowly

by martainez



Series: perfectly imperfect [7]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-16
Updated: 2018-11-16
Packaged: 2019-08-24 11:42:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16639379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/martainez/pseuds/martainez
Summary: Some banter just hits a little too close to home.





	Tears dry slowly

**Author's Note:**

> I guess it's based on a comment Dan made in one of the gaming videos during spooky week... I don't even remember which one. Granny, perhaps?

It’s purely friendly banter, has never been anything more than that. No underlying bitterness, save for maybe a few back in the dark times. But they don’t live in those times anymore, that was more than half a decade ago, they’ve moved on and developed as people. As partners. All the banter today is nothing but friendly, quick comments made to laugh at. 

Phil shakes his head at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, as he turns the tap on and rinses his hands. He studies his face, there are lines where it once was nothing but smooth skin - evidence that time has passed. There are enough lines to remind him that the time that has past is not a year; it’s ten. It’s enough time that he should have developed more as a human. He should have stopped with his bad habits, especially the ones that people have been complaining about for years.

He dries his hands on the towel that’s neatly hung left to the basin and lets his eyes sweep the room. They stop as he spots a small box lying next to the tap, it’s white and blue and somewhat see-through and he knows _exactly_ what it is. And where it's supposed to be. And why it's not supposed to be lying there. 

He puts his contact lens case back in the bathroom cabinet and walks out.

***

It’s not that he dislikes the banter, he thinks as he makes himself comfortable on the couch. He would even go as far as to say he treasures it. He could never count the number of times the quick jokes and sarcastic comments have made him laugh, or made the air in the room feel less tense. 

Phil grabs his phone from his back pocket and starts scrolling through Twitter. The video has only been up for an hour but the reactions are already uncountable. They’re mostly positive, just like always, and none are really picking up on the thing that he, himself, picked up on. Maybe because the viewers only watched it once, while Dan made him watch it through a handful of times just to “really appreciate his hard work on the editing”. 

It’s a great video, mostly due to Dan’s editing and not so much to the game itself. It’s just that _one_ part that Phil dislikes, the _one_ that makes his skin feel a little too tight and the ghosts in his brain a little too lively. 

He locks his phone, remembering what Dan had told him the other night: “God, save some battery for fuck’s sake”. When he leans forward to grab the remote off the coffee table he spots a sock. It’s almost hidden underneath the sofa, but with its toes sticking out just enough to be noticed. It’s his socks, of course it is. It’s the pair of socks he wore earlier that day, the ones he kicked off when Dan decided to use the fireplace and make the whole flat feel like a desert. 

Phil stares at them. As if they were the root to all the evil in the world, the reason behind every tear that’s ever been shed. 

He bends down to pick them up, manages to grab the visible one and search with his hand for the second one when he hears the floor creak. 

“That’s a first; you picking up your socks without me having to yell at you,” Dan says. There’s obviously no irritation in his voice, he sounds rather cheerful, almost as if he’s having a really great day. But there’s something about that comment that just hits a little too close to home, something that makes Phil’s stomach tie up in far too many knots. 

It’s barely a whisper when he says, “I’m sorry”. He turns his head to Dan and manages a little smile just as he gets hold of the lost sock, he holds it up to Dan, as if it was some kind of trophy. And at that, Dan just laughs and leaves. 

***

Dan has his quirks too, Phil’s more than aware of that. Dan sometimes doesn’t leave his bed for an entire day, leaving Phil to do all the washing up and handling all their work all by himself. And sometimes Dan doesn’t leave for his bed for an entire night, leaving him all snappy and easily irritated. Phil’s not entirely sure what’s worse. But one thing he knows; he wouldn’t change Dan for the world. He loves Dan, including all of his perks and quirks. God, _he_ even jokes about it. He tells Dan, with his most playful voice, to “stop being so lazy” when he’s been lying in his bed for twenty consecutive hours, although he’s aware that Dan’s resting because he’s _mentally_ tired. 

They always laugh together at those comments. Or sometimes Dan only smiles because he’s fully drained. But he always appreciates the attempt to lighten the mood. Phil isn’t hurting anyone by saying things like that, by joking about serious issues. He isn’t. Or maybe he is. Maybe that’s the problem that keeps trying to suffocate him. 

Maybe he’s been hurting Dan for the past nine years, and maybe that’s why he’s “the worst person to have to live with”. 

He waves the socks around in the air, releases and lets them flop down to his lap. He shouldn’t let his mind wander like this, that’s what Dan always tells him. If he closes his eyes and listens carefully he can hear Dan say it. The thing about how “you can never get bullied by a bully”, and to be honest, it’s great advice. Phil should probably listen to it more and stop letting himself feel bullied by the bully that is him. But it’s hard, especially when all he can see in the pitch black that is when he closes his eyes are Dan who’s mouthing the words at him. Over and over again. 

“ _The true horror is having to live with Phil”_. 

*** 

He’s still sitting on the lounge floor when Dan re-appears. 

“People usually prefer sitting on something made to be sat on,” Dan says and nods towards the couch. He takes a step back and gestures behind him to the kitchen. ”Would be nice if you helped me with dinner, y’know”. 

There’s some slight irritation in his voice, Phil notices. Nothing that can’t be explained by the simple fact that he’s probably hungry, but what should be logical to everyone else just doesn’t make sense for Phil today. He grabs the socks from his lap and hurries to stuff them in his back pocket as he stands up. 

“Yeah, sorry,” he mumbles as he makes his way to the fridge. 

***

Dan rummages through the cabinets for someone which expiration date doesn’t scream last week, while Phil lifts and shakes every single carton. Most of them are echoing empty, and the ones that aren’t, well, they smell like they somehow survived World War One. 

“You forgot to do the weekly shop, didn’t you?” 

Phil swallows thickly. He did forget, didn’t he? The one mission he had yesterday he screwed up. 

“Sorry,” he says. Maybe he should address it more, give Dan the real apology he deserves. But there’s something in Phil’s throat that makes it impossible. Something that's growing, turning and pulsating. It blocks out everything but small portions of air. Suffocating, really. 

“Well fuck, we’ll have to order something,” Dan says, trying not to sound too happy about it. He’s turning around and claps his hands together. “What a shame”.

He’s surely expecting to find Phil grinning when he turns to look at him, but what he’s met with is nothing of that sort. 

Phil’s standing, still with a firm grip of an empty milk carton, fighting back all his emotions that are currently threatening to spill through his eyes. 

He wants to scream, yell out all the apologies he wants to give all the people he’s ever hurt. He wants to address everything he’s ever done wrong, make thousands of promises that he will do better in the future. He wants to lie and tell people that he’s made enough mistakes, that he won't do it again. 

But he can’t. He feels paralyzed, like he can’t do anything but just stand and blink rapidly to keep the tears from falling. He shuts his eyes, finds it the easiest solution to the problem. He thumping of is heart is scary high to his ears, but in the background, he hears the sound of clothed feet padding towards him on the cold, wooden tiles. 

He’s enveloped by two soft arms. A hand grabs the milk carton from his grip and he lets his head fall into the crook of Dan’s neck, opens his eyes just for a moment and suddenly all the tears he’s been fighting back are set free. 

He’s sobbing, his whole body shaking as Dan rubs his back soothingly. His throat is still hurting and the mission to let any words out still feels impossible, but he sobs and snorts and sobs a little more. 

”It’s okay,” Dan whispers between pressing soft kisses to Phil’s hair. “Everything is okay,” he whispers again. 

Phil can’t do anything but cuddle closer, really letting himself melt into Dan’s embrace. This must be frustrating for Dan, he thinks. Having to pause his evening just to have Phil clinging to him. But at this moment, Phil can’t do anything to step away. He doesn’t even really want to step away. 

They stay silent for a moment before Dan speaks again:

“I’ll just order something, okay?” His voice is all soft and it shouldn’t spike any anxiety in Phil, but it does. Because now Dan will have to go even further out of his way to make up for a problem Phil caused. 

With a newfound strength, Phil pulls away and steps back until his back hits the door of the refrigerator. The lump in his throat seems to dissolve a little, and for the first time in a while, his body is letting him speak. 

“No,” he almost-yells, he swallows down the remains of the lump. “No, it’s okay. I’ll do it, sorry,” he continues with a rush. He wipes a spare tear off his cheek as he lowers his voice to whisper an apology. “Sorry”.

“What?” Dan sounds so confused. Of course he does, everything Phil does is confusing. He always messes up and he can’t get shit done and-

“Phil, what’s wrong?” 

And oh god, the tears start to leak again.

”I’m so sorry,” he whispers, not daring to look at Dan. He’s crying silently now, not even bothering to wipe away any tears. He just lets them fall. 

“But why? Why are you sorry?” Dan sounds so desperate, and Phil can hear him walking closer once again.

Phil shakes his head slowly. “Because I’m me”.

He feels the hand that cups his face and lifts it until his eyes meet Dan’s. His whole face screams of concern, his brows frowned and eyes watering. 

“Because you’re-“ Dan pauses, “you?” 

“Yeah”. 

“And that’s something bad?” 

Phil bites his bottom lip. He doesn’t want to do this. He doesn’t want Dan to feel obligated to comfort him. He doesn’t want to keep being the burden that he’s been for the past nine years. 

But he nods. Because he also doesn’t want to be that jerk who never answers. 

“Why would you apologize for being you?” Dan asks calmly. He lets his hand slide down Phil’s cheek and neck until it’s resting on his shoulder. He pulls him closer until they’re positioned in the same position as earlier, with Phil resting his head on Dan’s shoulder. 

A cloud of tiredness seemingly encircles Phil all of a sudden. He lets his eyes fall shut, and body relax against his partners. Maybe he could just be a burden for a few more minutes before changing. 

“Because you deserve it,” he says, voice small and slightly stuttering. Dan pulls him closer and leaves a kiss on his head. 

“Why would you say that?” 

Phil takes a deep breath, it’s shaking and not all so good, but it’s enough to clear his head slightly. Should he do this now? Just let it all out and see what happens? 

He lifts his head enough to look Dan in the eyes.

“Because I’m always messy,” suddenly the words just seem to fall out of him, “and you tell me to get shit done and I never do, and you must be angry because I fuck shit up constantly. And you just have to live with it, but you shouldn’t have to. Because you deserve better,” he lets his voice fall silent before whispering the last few words; “you deserve someone better than _me”_. And as his voice breaks at the last word, his cheeks are wet again and by now his eyes are beginning to hurt. 

Dan’s looking at him with big, beautiful, brown eyes. He’s shaking his head, oh so slowly, almost as if it’s unconsciously. 

“Phil,” he begins. “You’re right, I don’t deserve you. You’re too good to me. And no, I don’t have to live with you, but,” he pokes Phil on his nose. “I want to,” he pecks Phil on his nose. “And I’m sure as hell is going to continue to”. 

He smiles sadly, raising his hand to slowly caress Phil’s wet cheek. 

“You won’t say that the next time you find the cupboards left open” Phil mumbles, maybe it is a little harsh, he never wanted Dan to feel bad about his little innocent jokes, but he couldn’t lie no more. He couldn’t smile and say that it’s fine (not when the real problem is that he’s just a way too sensitive person that should grow a pair of balls). He growls out loud at his thoughts. He just wishes that they would shut up and let him enjoy Dan’s praises. 

“You’re right,” Dan says. And oh, despite everything, that wasn’t the answer he thought would come. Or what he wanted. 

Dan must have spotted some change in his facial expression, because he puts on a small, but affectionate, grin as he continues,

“I wouldn’t say that, I wouldn’t shower you in affection while sinking down to knees. I’ll probably tell you off, jokingly of course, but still.” 

And suddenly there’s a warm and fuzzy feeling inside of Phil, and he can’t control himself when a small laugh erupts from somewhere deep inside of him. The sound is music to Dan’s ear, and the grin on his face immediately grows wider. 

“You wouldn’t blow me?” Phil laughs, because of course, that’s the part that stood out to him. 

“A blowjob is a commitment, I don’t do them on command.” 

“That’s not what you told me yest-“

“Actually shut up, I will punch you”

And Phil laughs. And Dan laughs. And it’s beautiful and familiar in all the best ways. Dan pulls Phil little closer. He can practically feel the air puffs that leaves Phil’s mouth as he laughs - Dan’s sure it’s one of his top ten feels in the world. He closes the remaining space and lets their lips meet in a soft, sweet kiss. 

When he pulls away, he remains close enough that he can still feel Phil’s breath. 

“See, this is us. We bant, we kiss and we love, you wouldn’t want to change that, do you,” Dan asks.

“No,” it’s a soft whisper, and when Phil goes in for a second kiss, Dan can feel the honesty pour out of him. 

“I love you, idiot,” he says as their lips meet, the most of his voice is eaten by their hungry love, but Phil seems to have heard anyway. 

Because when he pulls away, he’s laughing. And there’s not a single tear evident in his eye as he responded, 

“I love you, too, idiot”

**Author's Note:**

> My psychology teacher taught me about the "you can't get bullied by a bully" theory, it's a mindset from the cognitive perspective. I just took a wild guess that that's what type of therapy Dan goes to. Why? Because it's popular.


End file.
